Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
But before I can make another move, Gavin grabs my arm and smiles. “Come on, Kane. You got to use the bitch. Time to share.”
My arm hurts from his forceful touch, and the more I pull away, the harder he squeezes. I think he’ll break it, but then his hand disappears.
Kane snatches Gavin’s arm and twists it against his back as he stands behind him. With the height difference, he towers over him as he speaks low, close to his face. “What I use is mine and mine alone. I don’t share my toys. Are we clear?”
“Fuck! Let go. You’ll break my arm.”
“After that, it’s your dick’s turn.”
“Davenport.” Preston slides to his side. “He’s our goalie.”
“Our goalie would know his fucking place, now, wouldn’t he?”
His words are calm. So calm, they’re chilling.
Isabella’s face twists in an ugly expression as she rushes to her brother. “Kane, let him go! Why are you hurting Gav for this bitch? She’s not even—”
“Shut your mouth, Isabella.” His words are deep and final.
Forget Isabella, even I flinch, hoping to find a hole I can crawl into.
“Out,” he orders, throwing Gavin at Preston. “All of you out. Now.”
Isabella’s friends run out of there as if their asses are on fire. Gavin, Jude, and Preston are next.
Isabella is the one who lingers behind, her face red and her breathing choppy.
He merely looks at her with his signature composed expression that could crumble mountains. “Waiting for an escort?”
“You can’t be serious!” She points a finger in my direction. “She’s an outsider. This bitch is a fucking outsider!”
“Call her a bitch again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
I flinch. Again. As if I’ve been hit by lightning.
Isabella trembles all over, her legs barely holding her upright, but she stomps out of the room after stabbing me with one final glare.
Everyone, and I mean every single one who left, looked at Kane as if he were an alien before they exited.
The room is charged despite their absence. Hell, it’s even more stifling than when they were all here.
My survival instinct kicks in and I slowly inch toward the door. The sooner I get out of here, the better.
I didn’t sign up for dealing with this side of Kane tonight. No matter what this side is.
The moment I open the door, a hand slams it shut from behind and an oppressive warmth covers my back as Kane’s deep voice fills my ears. “Where do you think you’re going?”
11
DAHLIA
My nails dig into the strap of my bag.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip.
And I draw countless circles on my thumb in an attempt to properly breathe.
In.
Out.
You know how to breathe. Remember how to breathe.
But no amount of comfort movements dispels the tension sinking in my stomach.
“I’m just leaving.” I speak clearly, though my voice is low. “Didn’t you ask everyone to get out?”
“Not you.”
My heart jumps, and I really, really hate my body’s reaction to his words.
No. To his voice.
Rough, deep, and so close, I feel the vibration of his chest against my back.
He doesn’t even yell, but it’s commanding nonetheless. He has this impressively monotone volume that never rises or drops. But maybe that’s why it’s terrifying.
I’ve witnessed exactly what Kane is capable of, so his calm, agreeable image is now disturbing instead of intriguing.
Since his arm is above my head on the door, blocking my exit, I figure escaping isn’t an option. After one last circle on my thumb, I spin around.
He’s close.
Too close. His chest hovers near mine.
So close, I can breathe alcohol and mint off his lips.
This close, I can see the dark rings that circle his frosty-blue eyes.
So inhumanly close, I’m trapped by the warmth his body emanates, like a gateway to hell.
So unsettlingly close, my legs squeeze together out of a strange need to protect myself.
And the most infuriating part is that I can’t read his expression.
Or lack thereof.
Like a blank board, his face is neutral and his eyes are muted, almost as if he’s bored with the entire ordeal.
I wonder if he has this same expression while fucking.
No.
Why the hell am I thinking about Kane and sex?
I lift my chin. “What do you want?”
“What do you want?” There’s a flare in his nostrils, a hardening in his tone that turns authoritative and firm.
“Me? You’re the one who imprisoned me here.”
“You’re the one who keeps appearing in front of me. Again and again. Despite my clear warnings. So tell me, Dahlia, do you lack survival instinct, or do you have a twisted kink about dying young?”
“I didn’t mean to appear in front of you tonight.”
“Is that why you chose to attend a victory celebration party for my team? Or why you were snooping around business that doesn’t concern you?”
“It’s not that I wanted to be here. I was invited by a friend.”
“An invitation you should’ve refused.” He kills the distance between us and his chest grazes my breasts that suddenly grow heavy. “But you’ve never been good at refusing invitations, have you? You seem to always land yourself in a clusterfuck by just existing.”